Good Morning
by steubec
Summary: What do you do when you both have a day off work? This is a one-shot from somewhere in the future after Walt and Vic have started their life together. Walt/Vic shipping.


Thwack!

The sound fights to pull Vic out of her dream into the present day. She had been lying on a beach, listening to the waves and sipping some fruity drink with an umbrella in it.

Thwack!

That is definitely not the sound of waves crashing on the shore. She rolls over and reaches her arm out, disappointed to find nothing there. Her hand lands in a spot still slightly warm from where he had slept. It confirms he hasn't been gone long. She opens her eyes and looks around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he moves about getting ready for his day but the room is dark and empty.

Thwack!

She closes her eyes and stretches.

His relentless pursuit of her pleasure last night has left her slightly sore in the most intimate places. It is the kind of sore that makes you smile unexpectedly at work the next day because a certain move triggers a sensation and you remember how you came to feel that way. Their lovemaking has only been getting better as they come to know one another's bodies and preferences. She isn't worried about having to teach the old dog any new tricks because the tricks he already knows are spectacular.

Thwack!

Her eyes pop open again and she furrows her brow. She shakes her head as she finally understands the sound that has roused her from sleep. He's splitting wood. She checks the clock beside the bed. Six in the morning on his day off and the man isn't sipping coffee on the porch, making breakfast in the kitchen or even in bed with her where he should be. He's splitting wood.

There was a time she would have wondered what that meant, thought something was wrong. He already had plenty of wood split and stacked on the porch where it would stay dry, but she had grown to know that it was just part of how he had mentally survived all those years alone. Whenever he brought wood into the house, he replaced what he had taken from the woodpile, said it prevented him from running out at the wrong time and having to split wood in a blizzard. This particular habit wasn't about survival for him anymore, but it did represent one simple way he could take care of her, take care of them. She hears him enter the cabin, walk over to the fireplace and gently fill the wood box, one piece at at time. She can picture him squatting down, taking care not to drop the whole mess at once and wake her. He puts a couple of pieces on the warm coals left from the fire that had died down overnight. She knows it will be going again in no time. When he finishes he will stand, put his work gloves in his pockets and rub the palms of his hands on his thighs, allowing the friction with the denim to help warm them up. She hears him take off his coat and knows he will hang it up straight away, not on the back of a kitchen chair as she is prone to do. He always puts his coat in it's proper place, every time.

She thinks about getting up to go see if she can entice him back into bed with her, but the cabin hasn't warmed up yet and she is very cozy snuggled down under the comforter. She grabs his pillow and wraps her arms around it, taking in his scent. She feels a little like a cat, the way she rubs her face into the soft flannel of his pillowcase and knows that if she could purr, she would be.

She must have fallen back asleep because when she opens her eyes again, there is a diffuse light coming in through the window and the large mass of a man she has come to love is sitting in the wing back chair next to it. It's his reading chair, but he isn't reading at the moment. He holds a cup of coffee in his hand and his eyes are intent on her. She smiles at the formidable impression he makes, "Good morning."

He smiles back at her, "Mornin'."

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"A while. Been watching you sleep."

"From anyone else that would sound creepy but from you it's kind of sweet."

"Thanks."

"Well, you know, I do kind of like you and all."

He presses his lips together and shakes his head slightly, "Not for that Vic...I really want to thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything: Staying in Durant, supporting me through the chaos, pushing me when I needed it and backing off when I didn't...You were willing to be both tough and vulnerable with me...It means a lot."

"You're welcome."

Keeping his eyes steady on hers, he sets his coffee mug on the small table next to the chair and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. He brushes the hair back from her face and continues, "You are an incredible woman and I am so lucky that you chose to be here with me, that you continue to choose it everyday."

"There's no place else I would rather be."

"I never tire of hearing that."

"I never tire of saying it."

She sits up allowing the comforter and sheet to fall from her bare torso. His sudden intake of breath shows her it has the desired effect.

He reaches out to caress her shoulder, "Are you sure you're up to it? I thought I pretty much wore you out last night."

She leans into him for a long, lingering kiss. When she finally pulls away he raises his eyebrows, "I guess that answers my question."

She smiles seductively as she reaches for the buttons on his shirt, "I guess it does."

He places his hand over both of hers, stopping her progress temporarily. She lifts her face with a questioning look.

"I love you, Vic."

"I love you, Walt. Now, you'd better not keep me waiting."

He can't keep the grin off his face, "I wouldn't dream of it."

They spend the rest of the morning in bed wrapped up in each other and the love they share. Neither would have it any other way.


End file.
